


Trick-Or-Treat

by CoyoteBlues



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF, X-Men: First Class (Comics)
Genre: Alternative Timeline, Baby Kurt, Brotherhood, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Angst, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Kurt is Just Too Cute, Post X-Men: First Class, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 07:19:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11143554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoyoteBlues/pseuds/CoyoteBlues
Summary: Halloween is the one time a year that mutants can truly be themselves. A 3-part short story about a fan favorite X-Men family: Kurt, Mystique & Azazel on Halloween night. XMFC & AU. Warning: baby Kurt is just too cute. Enjoy!





	1. Trick-Or-Treat: Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> For readers browsing FF.net, this is a re-post of an older that celebrates my favorite holiday. New readers, welcome and former readers, please re-enjoy. And, Happy Halloween, no matter what time of year it is! :)

"Mama, let's go!" Kurt's plea was halfway between a demand and a whine as he tugged impatiently on his mother's hand. Despite being an athletic, energetic child, his lithe four-year-old body was not going to be effective in moving his mother one inch from where she had collapsed on the beaten-up old couch in the Brotherhood headquarters. Mystique was exhausted, and lay with her arm draped over her eyes, trying to summon whatever energy remained from the mission she completed an hour prior. With a loud sigh, she removed her arm and met her son's gaze. He was standing before her wearing a wide-brimmed cowboy hat, boots, a blue buckskin vest and pants, a scarlet scarf tied around his neck, and a black belt that holstered a toy cap gun. If he had a black mask on, he'd be a miniature Lone Ranger (with blue skin, of course). His catlike eyes were as wide as saucers and his tail wagged behind him excitedly as he tugged on her limp arm.

Motherhood was a mission that never ended.

"We're gonna miss it!" Kurt's hat slipped back from his head as he renewed his futile efforts to pull his mother off the couch. Mystique had no idea where he got his cowboy outfit; she suspected that Angel or Emma was behind it. They were always spoiling the boy, despite her (and to a lesser degree, his father's) protests. In many ways, Kurt was the only child in a family full of doting parents. Even Erik, as fearsome and stoic a leader as he was, was known to push aside schematics and diabolical plans and pull the boy into his lap if Kurt wandered into his office with a picture book. She often worried that with so many people devoted to him, Kurt would grow-up with a skewed view of fairness and reality.

"Sweetie, we'll go just as soon as your father gets home, I promise." Kurt continued to look wistfully at his mother, his golden eyes mirroring her own. Being a child, his vocabulary did not seem to contain the words 'soon' and 'wait.' She slid her hand out of his and tousled his shaggy, ink-colored hair, a trait among many that he received from his father. Kurt began to pout and stamped his foot angrily, his tiny tail now lashing sharply back and forth in frustration. Clearly another trait he took from his father, whether he realized it or not.

"Here baby," Mystique cooed and leaned over the couch's arm, groping for a bucket, "play with your Legos for a bit. Can you build me a house?" Kurt's energy was instantly transferred to the toys, and he upended the bucket and began to smash pieces together with the reckless enthusiasm that only a child could possess. As she watched him construct a deformed building, she smiled and knew he would never grow-up to become an architect. Not, of course, that his physical mutation would allow him to live a normal life; Mystique didn't kid herself for one second that Kurt would ever be accepted by humanity due his appearance. After all, her own mutation was the reason she joined the Brotherhood to begin with. She was fighting not only for the safety of her child, but for mutant children everywhere doomed to grow-up as outcasts simply because of human intolerance and ignorance. As Kurt moved onto his next unsound edifice, she glanced over at the wall clock and frowned. Where the hell was he?

As if an answer to her unspoken question, a sharp crack and a cloud of red and black smoke appeared near the room's doorway.

"Papa!" The blue boy jumped-up, carelessly sweeping his tail and destroying his monstrous Lego buildings. In a shadowy cloud, Kurt disappeared and instantly reappeared directly in front of his father, landing feet-first on his chest and knocking the adult man backwards. In play, Azazel staggered and dramatically fell to the ground with Kurt on top of him, pretending that the boy's bounce had succeeded in knocking him over. He was careful, however, to brace Kurt's body so the boy would not accidentally fall during their play. This gesture was not noticed by Kurt, whose gleeful smile clearly indicated his belief that his teleportation abilities had finally begun to match his father's. After all, he was now able to teleport across an entire room in one jump, something he could not do just a few months ago.

"I beat you!" Kurt's laughed as he sat on his hands and feet on his father's chest, the king of the hill he conquered. Azazel smiled at him with pride and put his hands over his son's.

"You are getting strong, moĭ malʹchik. You will soon be stronger than me, I think."

"I won't hurt you for real Papa." Kurt's voice was serious as he looked down at his father with wide, slightly worried eyes. "We're just playing pretend." Mystique felt a pang in her heart that she tried to ignore as she watched her son's reaction to the idea of hurting his father. More and more often she caught herself thinking that Kurt was far too sensitive, even for his age. She feared the life he was born into would not be one he was well suited for, and countless times she had to hide injuries and failed missions from his knowledge. Once, when he managed to escape her arms and accidentally saw Janos with broken nose and blood-soaked shirt, Kurt had frightful nightmares for weeks afterwards. Her heart hardened as she turned her gaze from her son to her mate.

"Azazel, you're over an hour late." Azazel did not look at Mystique, but his tail smacked loudly against the floor at her complaint. Azazel's focus was on Kurt as he sat up, carefully transferring the weight of the boy from his arms to his lap. In the years she had lived with him, Mystique had learned that Azazel was very good at ignoring people and pretending he didn't hear things if what he heard didn't suit his interest. She crossed her arms angrily as he picked up the cowboy hat and placed it back on his son's head, smiling as it was clearly too big for the young boy. Kurt's eyes glowed in the shadow of the brim.

"I thought you were going to be a knight?"

"I'm a cowboy! Look at my gun!" Kurt snapped his cap gun again in illustration, and sliding off his father's knee, he took aim at Azazel. The red mutant wore a look of mock fear on his face, putting his hands in the air in surrender.

"Sheriff, do not shoot! I will nyet steal a horse again!"

"Azazel, did you hear me?" Azazel gave Mystique a sharp look over Kurt's head. The child continued to shoot his cap gun, oblivious to his parent's tense stare down. After a few seconds, Kurt lowered his gun and titled his head at his father, this tail wagging expectantly.

"Papa, you're dead. I just shot you six times." Azazel's attention snapped back to Kurt.

"What? Oh, right. Da, you got me." He pulled Kurt's hat down over his face as the boy giggled and tried to push it back up with both hands while still clutching his toy gun. Dropping his voice, Azazel spoke softly to his son in Russian for a few seconds, and the boy answered, nodding enthusiastically, and then disappeared, reappearing far down the hallway. Mystique narrowed her eyes.

"Use feet, do not teleport to room!" At Azazel's warning, Kurt bound around the corner instead of using his mutation. At Kurt's departure, Azazel stood and briskly brushed his suit clean with his hands. When he finally turned towards Mystique, she crossed her arms again and looked away. She positively hated when he did that, and Azazel knew it. Kurt had the benefit of growing up bilingual, but Mystique still struggled with Azazel's native language, and she felt shutout when he and Kurt spoke in Russian in front of her. Azazel stared calmly at her, his pale blue eyes striking against his rough, vermilion skin. The dramatic contrast was one of his best features, and certainly one of the many that caught her attention in the first place.

"Not in front of the boy, Mystique." His tone was an icy as his eyes.

"You promised you would be here and look what time it is!" Mystique pointed to the clock, which Azazel deftly ignored.

"Am here now, is all that matters."

"Yeah, you tell that to Kurt. It's one thing if you break promises to me, but it means everything to him."

"I did not break promise. I am here; we go when Kurt comes back, da?" Mystique opened her mouth to continue the fight, but she was interrupted by burst of blue smoke in the middle of the room. She jumped off the couch, startled by Kurt's sudden appearance. He was getting better at teleporting, but she worried when he tried to do longer and longer distances, or teleport in a house with so many things that could hurt him.

"Ta-da!" Kurt smiled triumphantly and announced his appearance to his surprised parents. He stood in the middle of the room clutching an empty pillow sack. "Now can we go? Please?" His body was trembling in anticipation. Azazel frowned and titled his head.

"Malʹchik, what did I say about teleporting from room?" Kurt face fell slightly and he looked guiltily at the floor. Azazel crossed his arms and looked sternly down at Kurt, who was pushing the toes of his left foot into the ground and trying to avoid answering.

"Malʹchik?"

"That I will get stuck in a wall." Kurt sighed exaggeratedly and looked up with big eyes. "But Papa, that only happened one time. I'm good now!"

"Not in the house until you are older, baby." Mystique walked over to Kurt and knelt so she was on his level. She put her hand on his face and turned it up so he was looked at her. He looked so small and venerable, and she was afraid to see him get injured. "Remember? We practice first in open areas, then try where there are things like walls and furniture." Kurt nodded and Mystique hugged him tightly. Her son was the best part of her, and she knew it. She was so afraid he was weak, that he would get hurt. Azazel scoffed at this, knowing that he had to experiment with his own mutation to learn control, but he agreed that Kurt needed practice before he could freely move around obstacles.

"You listen to your mother and I." Azazel took a few steps closer to the pair. He slid his hand on Mystique's shoulder and gave an affectionate squeeze. Nothing stopped a fight between them faster than the thought of their child in any kind of danger. "So, are we ready, then?" Kurt started jumping up and down at his father's question. He quickly abandoned that in favor of pulling Azazel's tail towards the door. Azazel remained rooted to his spot, watching at his son's efforts with amusement.

"Let me just get my things." Mystique walked back to the couch and picked up a cheap pair of feathered white wings and a headband with a halo attachment. She was already wearing a white dress that she fashioned out of her own scales to cover her body, even if the dress left little to the imagination. Since Kurt was born, she had taken to "wearing" clothing again, at least until he was older. Kurt had enough difficulties in life to face, and seeing mother essentially naked all the time was not one she thought he needed to deal with at such a tender age. She was happy to find that, in her mind at least, wearing a dress made from her own skin and leaving her arms, legs and face in their natural state did not feel like hiding as it did when she was Raven. She still felt true to herself, which was what really mattered. The halo and wings, however, were simply too much trouble to fashion out of skin for an evening. She slipped into her angelic costume and turned to face Azazel and Kurt.

"I'm a Blue Angel. Get it?" Azazel had a wolfish grin on his face as he took in the irony of his mate's costume. "At least this year I'll match one of you two."

"Do not hate me because my costume is easy." For the four year in a row, Azazel was of course, going as a devil. He held out his hand and Mystique took it gracefully, although she was a bit surprised when he quickly pulled to his side and slipped his arm around her waist. The look in his eyes as he took in her costume told her their fight was over. She shot him an I'm-still-mad-at-you look, but allowed it to be marred with a slight smile. Kurt dropped his father's tail and grabbed his other hand with both of his, still clutching his pillowcase and cap gun. Azazel held his little family close and grinned.

"I have found for us a very special place this year. You will love it." In heartbeat, they disappeared.


	2. Trick-Or-Treat: Part 2

The trio appeared seconds later in a small wooded area, landing among sharply crunching leaves and greeted by the quiet babble of a nearby creek. A few yards before them was the end of a sprawling subdivision, but from where they stood, the mutant group was hidden from prying eyes. In all the years she had known him, Mystique had learned that Azazel excelled at finding clandestine places mutants could appear in safely. Once fully materialized, the red mutant quickly picked-up Kurt – he knew the boy would take off running the first chance he got – and balancing the boy's weight on his hip, addressed his son in a serious tone. As Azazel spoke to Kurt, Mystique tucked her son's tail into his pants and removing one of his boots, gently tied the blue spade against Kurt's ankle. Costumed or not, a moving tail would be a dead-giveaway of Kurt's true nature, and the boy wasn't disciplined enough to keep it under control like his father.

"You remember what we talked about?" Kurt looked-up at his father and nodded vigorously. He craved approval from his parents. Mystique often worried about her son's need to please others; along with his sensitive nature, she was afraid it would make him weak on the battlefield.

"No 'porting in front of people, unless you or Mama says it's okay."

"Da, no teleporting. And?"

"No bragging about what you and Mama can do."

"Khoroshie. What else?"

"Um…" Kurt's golden eyes trailed away from his father as he concentrated, his little brow furrowed. As Mystique slipped his boot back on, tail safely tucked away, she could see that Kurt was visibly itching to get down and start his evening. It was critical that he remember what was asked of him though, for the safety of the entire group.

"Oh, I know!" Kurt beamed at his father with the same lopsided smile she had seen so often on Azazel. "No talking about Auntie Angel or Aunt Emma or Uncle Janos or Mr. Erik!"

"Pryekrasno!" His father congratulated him and kissed the side of the boy's face.

"That's my little man." Mystique smiled rubbed Kurt's back affectionately.

Azazel put the boy on the ground and Kurt walked in between his parents, grabbing both of their hands (as well as holding his pillowcase), swinging with each big step. As the three emerged from the small thicket and onto the street, they were greeted with the sights and sounds of Halloween. Not too far ahead, children in colorful costumes raced through the yards, collecting candy and playing, and small groups of parents patrolled the streets, smiling and waving at one another. It was late afternoon, and the dusky light that filtered through the autumn trees and the slight chill in the air were warmed by the sight of glowing pumpkins decorating porches and windows. The aroma of leaves, pine pitch, and cinnamon hung around them like incense, heady and warm and reminding Mystique of all things still good in the world. Kurt's heart-shaped mouth hung open as he took it in. It's perfect, thought Mystique as she shot a meaningful look at her mate, who had been watching for her reaction. It's utterly perfect.

"Azazel, this is wonderful. Where are we this year?"

"Salem, Massachusetts." Azazel said proudly. "Place where the witches were burned when this country was started. Spooky, nyet?" Mystique nodded and Kurt's trance was suddenly broken, and he looked up at his parents with big, questioning eyes. Grinning at his excitement, Azazel playfully shooed Kurt toward the first house.

"Go, go!" At his father's permission, Kurt ran towards the house like a horse out of its starting race gate. His empty pillowcase fluttered behind him like flag of some unclaimed country.

"Stay where we can see you!" Mystique called out after Kurt as he sprinted away. In his cowboy get-up, Kurt didn't look that much different from the human children. True, his blue skin would mark him "different" on any normal day, but today was Halloween, and eccentricities could easily be played off as part of his costume. He seamlessly melted into a group of children waiting to receive their Halloween treats. With shy smiles, Azazel and Mystique cautiously approached a small cluster of parents waiting at the end of the driveway. A woman in a store-bought witch costume regarded Azazel in awe, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Wow, I just love your costume! It must have taken hours to do that make-up."

"Da, it felt like it took lifetime to put on." Azazel laughed and offered her a dazzling smile. Even though he lead the life of an assassin, Azazel could be quite charming when it was advantageous for him. Mystique smirked, knowing all too well how charming he could be as she watched their son receiving his first treats for the evening.

"Oh, I get it – a Commie Devil!" The woman laughed her cleverness. "How fun!" Mystique felt Azazel tense next to her for the briefest of seconds. Although he would never admit it, he was self-conscious about his accent. Several other parents nodded and murmured about the pair's lavish costumes. The two mutants chatted amicably with the parents as Kurt traveled from house to house seeking sugary rewards. Azazel and Mystique had become quite good at pretending: they could pretend to debate the politics that oppressed them, sports teams they didn't care about, and schools that Kurt would never be allowed to attend. Halloween was the one time they could blend in while being completely in their own skin. It was their little joke on the humans, and really, their way to give their boy a chance at doing something fun and normal in his sequestered life.

In recent years, Mystique and Azazel had grown apart. The stress of having a child and raising him in shifts had put a strain on their once casual, carefree relationship. Kurt was a blessing, but an unplanned one; neither Azazel nor Mystique wanted a child, and the pair had only been together for one year when Mystique found out she was pregnant. They were young and scared, but in retrospect, Mystique decided that pretty much all parents were young and scared when the faced the prospect of having their first child. From the moment she saw the positive test results, something inside her mind shifted. In her heart, she suddenly wanted the child she carried more than anything else in the world. Azazel wasn't so keen on parenthood until the first time Kurt was placed in his arms; the look of wonderment on his face and the tears that came along with it spoke louder than words ever could. From that day forth, both mutants accepted parenthood as their most important mission, and worked hard to give Kurt a safe, happy life.

Raising a mutant child in an underground organization is not without major sacrifices. The long talks over wine and dinner that Azazel and Mystique would have before Kurt was born had now become discussions on their son's health, education, and general well-being. Many times Mystique and Azazel only saw each other when handing off Kurt as one would return from a Brotherhood mission to take over parenting so the other could leave. Kurt often snuck into their bedroom and crawled into bed with his mother after a nightmare. Due to his grueling mission schedule (he was the company car, after all), Azazel would sometimes sleep in Kurt's room just to be able to spend time with his child. She supposed it was the life of all working parents, but at times she missed what she and Azazel used to be as much as she loved the child they brought into this world. They were lucky that the other members of the Brotherhood saw Kurt as a nephew, and helped raise him when possible. Halloween was one of the few times the three were guaranteed time together, and Mystique valued this family time more than anything.

Eventually, the trio broke away from the humans and made their way down new streets and winding alleys. Kurt raced from door-to-door, occasionally running back to his parents to brag about a treat he received. After an hour of walking, Mystique found her hand securely in Azazel's, and her mate was talking excitedly about the legends and lore of Salem. Mystique was a history buff, and she loved to hear Azazel talk about things he had researched and read. As she listened, it struck her how much she missed their more academic discussions. Maybe when Kurt is older and more independent, things will go back to how they used to be. It was a hard thought to entertain. She loved her little boy's impish, immature ways, but she also missed her identity outside of being a mother.

"Well, aren't you just the cutest thing! What are you supposed to be?" They were at the very last house on the street. A woman with curling-pins in her hair stood in the doorway, looking down at Kurt and smiling.

"I'm a cowboy!" The woman tiled her head at Kurt's statement.

"You mean a demon, right?" Now Kurt tiled his head, confused at the woman's question. From the edge of the lawn, Azazel raised an eyebrow at Mystique, but she had already began walking briskly toward the door.

"No, I'm a cowboy." Kurt shot off a few caps with his toy gun, as if this demonstration would explain everything. When the woman's eyes narrowed, he tried again. "I'm not real cowboy, just a pretend one. It's Halloween." Kurt held out his pillowcase and looked-up expectantly. "Trick-or-Treat?"

"What kind of cowboy is blue, or…is that fur?" The woman frowned and reached out towards the little boy. Mystique doubled her pace, but before she could reach the pair, the woman had touched Kurt's cheek. She recoiled sharply, placing a hand over her mouth.

"What kind of a freak are you?" Her eyes were wide with fear.

"I'll thank you not to touch my child." Mystique pulled Kurt away from the woman. His lower lip began to tremble. He wasn't sure what the word freak meant, but he knew it wasn't very nice.

"This is your…" The woman looked at Mystique for a few seconds in stunned silence before she started shaking. "You're…one of them. He's a….he's a…"

"He's a little boy, dressed like a cowboy on Halloween. He's not a demon, and certainly not a freak." Mystique interjected icily, glaring fiercely. They had to leave, now. Azazel must have sensed the southward turn of their conversation because he instantly appeared next to Mystique on the porch.

"How kind of you to invite us in," the red mutant said as he pushed the woman backwards into the entryway of her home. Mystique had picked-up Kurt and quickly shielded his eyes so he wouldn't see his father's actions. Azazel wasn't going to hurt the woman – they had agreed no violence in front of Kurt until he was old enough to understand – but this woman was a threat. For having such a sorted history, Salem wasn't a mutant-friendly city, and all it took was one call to the local police for the trio to be in real trouble. They had to leave and they didn't have time to get back to the clearing. If they teleported from inside her home, only one frightened human would see them, not a street full of people. The chances of one human being believed were slim at best; it was Halloween, after all. Once inside, Mystique kicked the door closed behind her, and Azazel teleported them safely away.

They appeared in another part of Salem, far from where the noisy woman discovered their identities. Azazel was calm but Mystique was visibly shaken. On a battlefield, she was a fearless lioness, but when Kurt was threatened, it wounded her deeply.

"Mama, you're okay." Kurt's little voice broke the silence of the group. He put his tiny three-fingered hand on his mother's cheek. "Don't be sad."

"She had no right!" Mystique could feel the salty sting of tears building in her eyes. She gently let Kurt slip to the ground and wiped her eyes on the back of her hands. After a few seconds, her eyes narrowed and she grabbed her son roughly by the shoulders, shaking him slightly.

"Kurt, you listen to me!" Although she did not hurt him, her actions were rougher than she intended, and her voice was almost a yell. "You are not a freak! You are not a demon! You are perfect exactly how you are!" Kurt's eyes grew as wide as dinner plates, and he nodded his head vigorously at his mother. Azazel made shushing noises at Mystique and slipped his hand around her upper arm.

"Mystique, you are scaring him." Mystique released Kurt, gently pulled back by Azazel, and looked at her hands in shock. As her son looked up her fearfully and rubbing his arm where she had grabbed him, she seemed to realize what she had done.

"Oh. Oh baby, Mama didn't mean to…" her voice faltered as her forgotten tears reappeared. She covered her mouth and turned quickly away from Kurt only to be intercepted by Azazel. He held her firmly against him, stroking her hair and whispering to her as she stifled her tears on his jacket. Kurt watched them apprehensively, unsure of their sudden emotional display. He thought his parents to be invincible; in his little boy world, seeing his mother cry was a very scary thing indeed.

"It is alright moĭ malʹchik." Azazel smiled reassuring at his son while he comforted Mystique. "Mama just does not feel well, da?" Kurt nodded solemnly. He knew his Papa was lying to him, just like last week when he told Kurt his fish was sleeping when Kurt found him lying at the bottom of the tank. Tony never slept at the bottom of his tank, and when he started swimming again, Tony's black spot was on the wrong fin. Kurt wasn't sure why it was okay for adults to lie about things, but right now, he just wanted everything to go back to how it was before the strange lady touched him. Mystique swallowed and listened to the exchange between her partner and their child. Would Kurt ever understand?

After a short rest, the three mutants continued their evening. Azazel had suggested that maybe it was time to return home, but a protesting Kurt claimed that he had plenty of room left for candy in his pillowcase, and Mystique was determined not to let one prejudiced human ruin their night. Kurt had been instructed to stay at the back of the groups of children to draw less attention to himself. Mystique and Azazel smiled politely but refrained from interacting with the other parents any more than necessary. One surprise for the evening is enough, thought Mystique. However, her life was rarely as easy as that, and a mere hour later, upon turning the corner of a street, her second surprise for the evening came rolling towards her.

"Raven? Oh Raven, is it really you?"

Before she could react, Mystique was face-to-face with Charles.


	3. Trick-Or-Treat: Part 3

Ice flooded Mystique's veins when she recognized her brother on the dusky Salem street. He wasn't alone, either. Moira MacTaggert - correction, Moira Xavier (both Erik and Mystique had been invited to their wedding two years ago, but they declined to attend) - stood behind Charles, looking at Mystique with an expression just as shocked as hers. Behind Mystique, Azazel took a step forward and put his hand protectively on Kurt's shoulder.

"Raven, it is you!" The happiness in Charles's voice made her stomach churn. No matter what prevailed between the X-Men and the Brotherhood, Charles always managed to turn their meetings into some kind of messed-up family reunion. As Charles wheeled toward Mystique, Moira quickly ushered a small group of children away from the Mystique's direction. It seems like Charles had the same Trick-Or-Treat idea with his younger students as they did. The blue mutant bit her lip. It was clearly too late to pretend she didn't see Charles, and there was no way that Azazel could discretely teleport the family away. She looked down into her brother's periwinkle eyes and forced a smile. She was never going to get used to him being confined to that damn chair.

"Charles, what…what a surprise!" Mystique leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He caught her hand before she could pull away too far. She forced her smile wider. "It's Mystique now, remember?"

"Oh, yes, of course Rav…er, Mystique. How silly of me. Old habits, huh?" Charles looked past his sister and his smile brightened. Mystique followed his gaze to Kurt. Her small son was standing in front of his father frowning hard, trying to figure out why this strange man was touching his mother and calling her by the wrong name. The last time Charles saw Kurt, the boy had been in diapers.

"Kurt, you remember your Uncle Charles, don't you?" Mystique knew there was no way Kurt could remember Charles, but she felt it was the polite thing to say. Kurt shook his head "no" vigorously, but pulled away from his father's hand and slowly approached the pair. His eyes were glued to the wheelchair his 'uncle" sat in. He had never seen anything like it before.

"Wow, mister! Are you a robot?" Kurt demanded in a burst of childlike wonder. While Charles laughed and Azazel smirked, Mystique was mortified at her son's brashness.

"Kurt!"

"No, no, it's quite alright. He's just curious. Kurt come here," Charles beckoned the boy closer. After inspecting the chair and asking a few questions, Kurt had accepted that Charles was safe. He tousled the boy's hair affectionately, and listened with polite interest while Kurt showed off his cowboy costume. As Charles interacted with Kurt, Azazel appeared behind Mystique and gently placed his hand on her lower back for solidarity. Her gaze was drawn beyond Charles to a small, enclosed park where his youngest students were frolicking, oblivious to the presence of the Brotherhood members. Moira was standing at the gate, glancing from the children to Charles with a slight frown on her face. Next to her stood Alex, dressed-up as a police officer. Mystique's breath caught in her throat – she was terrified for a second that Hank would be present as well – but when she scanned the group, she recognized no other faces. Alex was sneering at her and holding hands with a green-haired girl in a ballerina costume who was busy minding the children. There was something about the green-haired girl that looked oddly familiar, but Mystique couldn't quite put her finger on it. There were about ten children playing in the park, and they did not look much older than Kurt. Truthfully, they didn't look much older than she had been the day Mystique wandered into Charles's life. She frowned at the memory, only to be interrupted by Charles insisting that they join his group for the remainder of the Halloween evening.

"Oh, Charles really we can't…" Mystique stuttered but Charles waved his hand dismissively.

"No, I insist. Kurt can play with the children. I've set-up a telepathic block around this park. It's completely safe for him, and for the others. They can just be kids for a while." As he spoke, it dawned on Mystique that the children had been using their powers as they played. To the average human passing by, Charles had made it appear that no one was in the park at all.

"But…" Mystique glanced over her shoulder at Azazel. The red mutant looked as alarmed as she did. Neither of them knew what to do. They glanced at Kurt, who was staring open-mouthed at the other children. It was the first time he noticed the children were different, just like he was.

"Ororo! Kitty! Scott! Come here and meet a new friend!" With that, several children jogged over to where the adults stood. Alex and the green-haired girl exchanged worried looks, but remained at the gate of the park watching the children. The boy was wearing dark glasses and dressed a crook in striped prison pajamas, and the African girl was dressed as a princess. The last little girl actually walked through the gate as the trio approached the adults.

Kurt stood as stiff as a cat with an arched back as the mutant children approached. He clutched his candy bag to his chest protectively and stood wide-eyed. Mystique felt a pain in her chest as she realized why Kurt was so hesitant. He had never seen another mutant child before. This isn't right.

"Kurt, it's okay. You can go play." Mystique gently pried the candy bag out of Kurt's clutches. He continued to stare at the children like a deer trapped in headlights. Suddenly, a cloud of blue smoke marked where he had once stood, and he peered out from behind his father, looking fearfully at the group.

"Hi, I'm Kitty!" The girl who introduced herself as Kitty was, indeed, dressed as black cat. She smiled warmly at Kurt. His tiny fingers wound into Azazel's pants harder and he hid behind his father's leg. Mystique knelt down to Kitty's level and held out her hand.

"Hello Kitty, it's nice to meet you. My name is Mystique." Mystique shook hands with the little girl and looked at her son. "Kurt, come say hello to Kitty." Kurt mumbled and looked at the girl unsure before burying his face in his father's pant leg again. Two other children had left the park to see what the commotion was. Azazel spoke softly to Kurt, prompting the boy to look up alarmed and answer back quickly in his father's native tongue. Undeterred by her new friend's shyness, Kitty spoke again, this time with a note of amazement in her voice.

"You can disappear completely?" Kurt looked at Kitty and swallowing, nodded in answer.

"Wow! Can you do it again? Please?" Kitty and the other children looked at him expectantly. Kurt took a step forward and hesitated, looking up at Azazel for permission. When his father nodded, Kurt vanished and reappeared behind Kitty. He tapped her on the shoulder with his tail and she shrieked in laughter. Amidst a chorus of "cool!" and "neat!," the others gathered around and started showing Kurt their powers. Moments later, Kurt was running and laughing with the other children, his fear abated.

"You have a fine boy there." Charles nodded curtly to Azazel, who returned the gesture before excusing himself and walking a short distance away to supervise Kurt and give Mystique and her brother privacy. The two men were cordial to one another, but Charles had never completely accepted the fact that his baby sister was sharing her bed with an assassin. After a long while of small talk and inquiring about the health and well being of old friends - namely Erik, Hank, and Sean - Charles asked her about her life. He was particularly interested in hearing about Kurt and his life in the Brotherhood.

"He's such a wonderful child. You must be so proud." Charles smiled warmly as he watched his students play. "How is he managing his powers? What about his education?"

"We're doing the best we can with what we have. It's hard, sometimes, I'm not going to lie." Mystique smiled wistfully as she watched Kurt tag another little boy in their game. The boy made a puddle freeze, but Kurt teleported over it easily. "It'd be nice for him to have more playmates like this."

"Mystique, you know there's always a place for Kurt at the school." Mystique was silent for a long time before answering. It was something she had thought about before, and something she had never openly discussed with Azazel.

"I know Charles."

"Look, if it's a matter of his father, well, I am sure once he sees the school and what it can offer Kurt, then…"

"Let's not talk about this, please?"

"Alright, but you know you can always talk to me if you change your mind." Charles was silent for a few moments before he glanced over at his sister and grinned.

It's good to see you again, Raven. I've missed you. His voice echoed, warm and familiar in her mind.

I miss you too, Charles. She didn't bother correcting him.

A little over an hour later and after parting from Charles's company, the trio walked back to a safe spot to teleport back to headquarters. Exhausted from his evening of trick-or-treating and playing with the other children, Kurt was sound asleep. He was drooling slightly on his father's shoulder, his little arms wrapped around Azazel's neck and his tail swaying gently in time with his father's stride. Mystique walked next to them, holding Kurt's pillowcase full of candy.

"Did he get any of those chocolates? With the peanut butter?" Mystique riffled through the candy bag and pulled out a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup. She unwrapped it and held out for Azazel. He leaned over and took it from her with his teeth, as both his arms were carrying their sleeping son.

"Ey luv dees tings." Azazel's voice was muffled by the chocolate, making Mystique chuckle.

"Are we bad parents for stealing our son's Halloween candy?"

"Nyet if we take few pieces only. He will not notice." Azazel swallowed and flashed her a wicked smile. "And, we are Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, so da, I think it is expected we steal candy from baby." Mystique rolled her eyes and smirked, taking a piece of candy for herself. As she chewed, she thought for a long time about how happy Kurt looked tonight playing with the other mutants. It broke her heart that they were taking him home to a house full of adults. Kurt should be around kids his own age, and Charles did offer…Mystique frowned and thought of the letters her brother had sent her in the last year highlighting programs for Kurt at his school. She ignored them, but now…

"Azazel, I've been thinking," Mystique took a deep breath and glanced over at her partner. Azazel had picked-up on the serious tone in her voice. He raised an eyebrow at her questioningly.

"Seeing Kurt playing with those children tonight…the mutant children with Charles…" Mystique saw Azazel's posture stiffen. He knew what she was about to say next, and she could tell already that he didn't want to hear it. Taking another deep breath, she continued.

"Kurt should be around other mutant children. It's not fair for him to only have adults as friends." Azazel was quiet for a long time, and they walked in silence, their footfalls the only sound. Finally, he responded in a whisper.

"We tried for other children Lyubia." Mystique felt a lump in her throat and gazed down to her feet. "You know this." The memories of her two miscarriages came flooding back. She had carried one child almost to term. Kurt should have a sister. They even named her – Marie – but she was born far too early, and took her last breath two hours after she entered this world. Azazel had to fight several guards to save Kurt when the boy was forcibly taken from a weakened Mystique in a delivery room; the pair could not chance going to a hospital again. After Marie, the two mutants decided it was just too painful to try for another child.

"I know, it's just…I was thinking, maybe Kurt can go to Charles's school for a little while?" Azazel stopped dead in his tracks and turned sharply to face Mystique. The look of shock and outrage on his face was frightening.

"You want to send our son away?" Kurt stirred lightly in Azazel's arms. Mystique rubbed his back soothingly to get him to return to sleep. She lowered her voice, hoping Azazel would follow her clue and do the same.

"No, that is not what I said. What I meant is maybe he can visit the school sometimes – like for a summer program or half-day care or something - and he can be around other children his own age."

"I will nyet abandon my child!"

"Azazel, listen to me! We will not abandoning him. We would be giving him a chance at a more normal childhood." Mystique was losing ground quickly. She tried a different approach. "Do you remember when you were a kid? Remember how you had no one to play with except your mother? Well, I had no one at all until I met Charles. We owe it to Kurt to let him have friends more than just once a year." Azazel looked unconvinced, although less outraged. Mystique sighed.

"Maybe we can just bring Kurt there for a few classes during the week? If anything, it would be easier on us. We wouldn't have to worry about finding a babysitter when we have joint missions, and we can visit Kurt whenever we want. You can teleport, after all. Charles would let us tuck him in and read him stories every night, and bring him back to headquarters on the weekends. When he's old enough to teleport better, he can visit us."

Azazel remained silent, his face unreadable.

"Kurt's not cut out for our life Azazel. You see how upset he gets at the sight of blood and pain. God, the kid cried for an hour yesterday when Janos killed a praying mantis that got into the kitchen. He made us have a funeral for it. What do you think he's going to do if we get hurt, or worse?" At this, Azazel turned his gaze toward his sleeping son. He was quiet for a long time before speaking.

"What if he chooses…their side?"

"And what if we raise him, but he chooses their side anyways?" Mystique threw her hands in the air. "I made a choice, remember? On the beach? Charles was the only family I had, and I still chose to walk away, to go fight for the our side." Mystique held his gaze steady. "There are no guarantees, but you saw Kurt tonight. You saw how happy he was to play with those children. We can give him that."

"Maybe we talk to your brother, maybe go see this school of his." Azazel looked forward, not meeting his partner's gaze. "I promise nothing."

In the dark, she reached out and gently put her hand on Azazel's arm. He was tense, and clutching Kurt tighter to him. His son was his world; she just wanted to make Kurt's world a little bit brighter.

An hour later, Mystique sat on the loveseat in their sitting room, rubbing her feet. Her halo and wings had been discarded on the floor next to her. With Kurt out view, she had relaxed back into her natural skin. She almost regretted not wearing real shoes with her costume, seeing how much they walked that night. As she reflected on this, Azazel appeared in the doorway, holding with two very full glasses of wine. He had changed out of his suit into more casual clothing. As he walked over to his partner, he lowered the needle on their record player behind him with his tail. Mystique raised an eyebrow at him and tried to suppress a laugh as he walked over to her, now exaggeratedly sashaying in time with the music.

"God, you're ridiculous, you know that?" She accepted a glass from Azazel. She took a sip and smiled. "Is Kurt tucked in?"

"Da, sleeping like angel." Azazel set down his drink on the end table and sat very close to Mystique. Pushing her hair to the side, he started rubbing her shoulders. After a few moments, she closed her eyes and leaned back. His hands were strong and felt wonderful.

"Did you remember to turn on his nightlight?" Instead of answering her, Azazel instead leaned forward and started kissing her neck. She giggled at the sensation of his beard against her skin. "Azazel, did you turn on...?"

"Nyet."

"Nyet?" Mystique echoed back, sitting up and looking at Azazel over her shoulder. "You know he gets nightmares if his light's not on!" Frowning, she started to stand up but Azazel quickly pulled her back down, wrapping his arms securely around her waist.

"Do nyet worry." Mystique didn't know what he was playing at, but she was no longer in the mood.

"But he's…"

"He is not here."

"What?" Mystique narrowed her eyes at Azazel. "What do you mean, 'he's not here'?'" Azazel smirked. "Where's Kurt? Where is our son?"

"I have surprise for you." He leaned forward and kissed her neck up to her earlobe before whispering: "Our son is sleeping at his Aunt Emma's house tonight. Which means…" Azazel kissed his way to her other ear before adding: "We have bedroom to ourselves." He sat back and smiled devilishly at Mystique with one eyebrow quirked. She knew that look. That look resulted in Kurt four years ago.

"Happy Halloween." As he pulled her to him again, she suddenly got an idea.

"Hey, Azazel, wait." Azazel murmured back and kept kissing her. "No, really hang on! …I have a wicked idea." At this, he paused and regarded her. Mystique smirked mischievously. "But…we're going to need Angel, Janos, and Erik." Azazel titled his head at her suggestion and laughed.

"Sounds kinky." Mystique giggled and explained her idea. As she spoke, his smile grew wider until she thought his face would split in two. He nodded in agreement, and offering his hand, they vanished to collect the others.

Two hours later the Brotherhood members returned to their headquarters in a fit of rancorous laughter. Amidst the chorus of voices, Janos and Angel were loudly proposing they make tonight's activities a yearly tradition, and even Erik was laughing so hard that he had to wipe tears from his eyes. When they reappeared, Mystique didn't release Azazel's hand, but rather, she held it tight and looked at her partner adoringly. He winked at her, and she knew then that despite the difficult times and decisions they would face, they'd face them together; there was no where he'd rather be that right there by her side. A short while later they were in their bedroom getting reacquainted with the sound their bed makes when Kurt jumps on it. They hadn't had a night this good this since Kurt was an infant. Afterwards, they laughed and pillow talked until sleep could be staved off no longer.

Mystique snuggled into the spoon of Azazel's body. He felt safe and warm, and he was snoring loud enough to wake the dead. God help me, she thought happily, but I have missed nights like these. Carefully aiming her elbow, she whacked him hard in the ribs, making him stir slightly, resettle, and breathe at a reasonable decibel. They were made for each other.

As she drifted off to sleep, Mystique smiled and hoped Charles and his X-Men didn't have too hard a time getting all the toilet paper out of the front yard trees...all 200 of them.

Trick-Or-Treat, indeed.

*** The End *** 


End file.
